


Four Stages of A Drunk Totsuka Tatara

by alicialeila



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Totsuka, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, References to K Side Red, References to Memory of Red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicialeila/pseuds/alicialeila
Summary: “He’s all yours, Mikoto,” Kusanagi said with a somewhat evil glint in his eye. He gave a wave as he left the bar for the night.Mikoto glanced at Totsuka, who was watching him from the next stool over.“I’m all yours, King,” Totsuka purred, in the low voice that usually meant one thing.Mikoto suffers through Totsuka's drunk flirting and realizes something about their relationship.





	Four Stages of A Drunk Totsuka Tatara

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure what this is, but it is definitely a result of listening to the No. 6 drama CD with drunk Shion.
> 
> Thank you, Vanessa, for all your support. When I told her I wanted to write drunk Totsuka flirting with Mikoto, she said, and I quote, "Please i'll give you 4$."
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Four Stages of A Drunk Totsuka Tatara**

_a guide by Suoh Mikoto_

 

 

“You did this on purpose,” Mikoto accused. 

“I did nothin’,” Kusanagi chuckled. “Totsuka always tries out new drinks for me.”

Mikoto grunted in reply. That was true, at least. But Kusanagi didn’t normally give Totsuka quite _so many_ drinks. And that last one, Mikoto could smell how strong it was from the next bar stool over.

Though their circle of friends had expanded significantly in the past few years, nights like tonight, where they laughed and drank and bantered just the three of them, felt like the old days, before he was the Red King. Mikoto liked quiet nights like these.

Before he could brood, Totsuka’s voice brought him back to the present. “King!” Totsuka cried. “I’m fine!”  
  
“Right,” Mikoto replied. The volume of Totsuka’s voice suggested otherwise, as did his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. This was the first stage of Totsuka’s drunkenness, the damn lightweight.

  
First came the “I’m not drunk” stage.

  
Mikoto sighed, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m not drunk!” Totsuka protested, pouting slightly.

The first time that Totsuka had ever had alcohol, he had said the exact same thing with that exact same pout.

It was no surprise that Totsuka’s first experience with alcohol had been with Kusanagi and Mikoto, since Kusanagi quite conveniently owned a bar.

Totsuka, four years younger than Kusanagi, had pestered him relentlessly to let him try a drink. Finally, after Totsuka had turned sixteen, Kusanagi had relented. Obviously, the alcohol had hit him quickly, and yet he wouldn’t admit that he was even a little bit tipsy.

“Well,” Kusanagi said, making his way from behind the bar to the door, “I’m out of here. Good night!” Mikoto scowled at him.

“Nooo,” Totsuka whined. “Kusanagi-san, it’s so early!”

Kusanagi chuckled and ruffled Totsuka’s hair playfully, the way he had when Totsuka’d been fourteen years old. Totsuka snaked his arms around Kusanagi’s waist and slammed his head into his chest.

Kusanagi looked at Mikoto, eyes pleading desperately, and Mikoto just snickered.

  
Next was the overly-affectionate stage.  
  


Now, Totsuka, in general, was a sunny person. He liked to make people laugh, liked to tease, and just instinctively knew how to comfort someone with a smile and a touch. But, after a drink—or six—Totsuka was a little bit louder, a little bit sillier, and a little bit… handsier.

Kusanagi stood there, patting Totsuka’s back awkwardly.

“You always smell so nice, Kusanagi-san,” Totsuka said into Kusanagi’s chest, his voice muffled. Mikoto snickered again, and Kusanagi glared at him accusingly.

“Uh-huh,” Kusanagi said, prying Totsuka off him. He managed to guide Totsuka back to his bar seat, and then steadied him as he wobbled in the stool. “There we go,” Kusanagi said, as if talking to a child.

Totsuka beamed at him, full force, before laying his head down on the bar. Kusanagi chuckled.

“He’s all yours, Mikoto,” Kusanagi said with a somewhat evil glint in his eye. He gave a wave as he left the bar for the night.

Mikoto glanced at Totsuka, who was watching him from the next stool over.

“I’m _all yours,_ King,” Totsuka purred, in the low voice that usually meant one thing.

  
Next was… well, _THAT_ stage. 

  
The moment was heavy with silence until Totsuka let out a ridiculous giggle. He shifted so that he was staring at Mikoto with his head in his hands. “So serious, King,” he said.

Mikoto deliberately avoided that gaze, knowing too well the coy little smirk Totsuka wore when he was like this.

One time, when Totsuka was a little bit older and Kusanagi had begun letting him sample his cocktails, Kusanagi had cut off Totsuka off when he’d started getting silly.

“All right, that’s enough, troublemaker,” Kusanagi had sighed.

“Troublemaker?” Totsuka had asked, pouting just a little. He’d leaned in real close and said, in that low, rough voice, “Have I been bad, Kusanagi-san?”

Kusanagi had gaped, and Mikoto saw just enough of a flush on his cheeks to know that he had been genuinely flustered. When he’d gathered his wits, he’d pushed Totsuka’s face away. “Brat,” he’d muttered, before turning around to clean up behind the bar.

Totsuka had let out a few wicked giggles. Then, he’d turned his attention to Mikoto. “King,” he’d drawled, his sly smile suggestive. “Am I-- Ow!”

Before Totsuka could finish whatever stupid innuendo his drunken brain had thrown together, Mikoto had thrown his balled-up napkin at his forehead. Totsuka blinked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. Mikoto had smiled quietly into his drink.

The sound of those same giggles snapped Mikoto’s attention back to today’s drunk Totsuka. He was now resting his head on his folded arms. He had closed his eyes, and his giggles grew softer and softer until he was silent.

“Oi, Totsuka,” Mikoto said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Totsuka murmured, his eyes still closed.

“Totsuka,” Mikoto said again, nudging Totsuka’s shoulder.

“Just… one minute and I’ll… go…” he slurred. His breathing evened out and Mikoto sighed in defeat.

  
This was the final stage: unconsciousness.

  
How many times had Totsuka fallen asleep at the bar, exactly like this?

Mikoto scooped Totsuka up bridal style, and immediately, Totsuka curled into him, arm twining around his neck. He paused for a moment, feeling Totsuka’s breath on his skin, before laying him down on the couch. Still sleeping, Totsuka clutched at him, and Mikoto had to gently pull him off.

Nothing could wake Totsuka when he was like this. Mikoto shifted a pillow under his head and covered him with his favorite blanket.

“King…” Totsuka murmured, and Mikoto stilled. He watched him. It didn’t seem possible that those mischievous eyes and that sly grin could so quickly melt into the perfect picture of innocence, but Totsuka’s sleeping form was proof.

He allowed himself to gently trace the curve of Totsuka’s cheek before pulling away and making his way upstairs.

He peeked into Anna’s room, making sure that the antics downstairs hadn’t disturbed her, and, seeing that she slept peacefully, he made his way to his own room.

Once in bed, it didn’t take Mikoto long to fall asleep—it never did. As he drifted off, he thought of the slyness of Totsuka’s smile, the raspy quality of his laughter.

 _Fuck,_ he groaned internally.

 

 

Totsuka’s voice was the first thing Mikoto heard the next day as he descended down the stairs, blinking sleep out of his eyes. It was well past morning and he was starving.

Anna, Yata, and Kamamoto sat at the bar, empty plates in front of them. The room smelled so ridiculously good that Mikoto’s stomach grumbled in interest. The bar also looked suspiciously clean.

“Good morning, King!” Totsuka chirped when he spotted Mikoto. “Or, good afternoon, I guess.” He smiled brightly. Mikoto narrowed his eyes.

Really, this could probably be considered Totsuka’s final stage of drunkenness: the reverse hangover.

Instead of being hungover like a normal person—headache, nausea, fatigue—Totsuka seemed even more chipper the morning after drinking. He’d no doubt cleaned, picked up groceries, cooked, and fed Yata and Anna before Mikoto had even woken up. It was exhausting.

“Mikoto-san!” Yata greeted loudly.

“Yo, Mikoto-san,” Kamamoto echoed. Mikoto nodded at them.

Anna just looked up at him, which was as good as a “good morning” from her. He sat beside her and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.

“There are bacon, eggs, and pancakes keeping warm for you,” Totsuka said. No sooner than Mikoto grunted in acknowledgement did a plate appear in front of him. “Enjoy, _King,”_ Totsuka said, the low lilt of his voice deliberate. When Mikoto looked at him, Totsuka winked.

Mikoto tsked. This wasn’t so much a characteristic of Totsuka’s reverse hangover as it was just generally part of his personality. Normally, people were embarrassed or shy after acting out when they were drunk.

Not Totsuka.

Mikoto’s gaze followed Totsuka as he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he said, smiling brightly.

Shameless.

“Totsuka-san was in a really good mood this morning,” Yata said. He looked at Mikoto. “Did something happen last night?”

Mikoto was silent and Yata flushed at the implications of his words.

“Not like… I don’t mean like that! I just… Never mind,” he murmured, staring intently at the empty plate in front of him.

Mikoto chuckled at Yata’s embarrassment. It was true that Yata had never seen Totsuka drunk before. Totsuka wasn’t quite so loose when it wasn’t just the three of them. He usually fell into caretaker mode when Homra was all together.

“No,” Mikoto sighed. “That’s just how Totsuka is after he drinks.”

“Ah. Well, that’s Totsuka-san for you,” Yata said.

“Yeah.”

 

 

Mikoto was sitting on the couch smoking when Kusanagi came in to Homra a few hours later. Anna sat beside him, drawing with her favorite crayons, each one a different shade of red. 

Taking in the spotless room, Kusanagi eyed Mikoto. “Totsuka?” he asked.

Mikoto grunted.

“And let me guess. He did the groceries? Cleaned the dishes? Fed you guys breakfast?”

Mikoto grunted again.

“That guy is too much,” Kusanagi said, laughing.

“You shouldn’t enable him,” Mikoto muttered.

“Oh, come on. At least he doesn’t get sick.”

“He’s embarrassing.”

“I’d have thought you’d be used to it by now,” Kusanagi chuckled. “At least he only flirts with me when he’s drunk.”

Mikoto glared. Then, “Wait, what?”

Kusanagi blinked at him for a moment and then burst out in laughter. “Honestly, Mikoto. Where have you been for the last, like, six years?”  
  
“Shut up,” he grumbled. He could hear Kusanagi chuckling as he walked into the kitchen and out of sight. When Mikoto looked down at Anna, she was staring up at him in that unsettling way of hers, the one that said she was _seeing_ something. “What?” he scowled. Anna merely shook her head and then looked back down at her drawing.

Mikoto stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and pulled out a new one. Taking a long drag, he considered what Kusanagi said. Totsuka was the type of person who brushed off threats and dangers with laughter. How many times had he hidden an injury from Mikoto with a wry smile and joke? But then, Totsuka had a knack for getting to the heart of the most important things by teasing and taunting. How long had he called Fushimi “Saru-kun,” until the kid finally told him to knock it off?

 _That guy,_ Mikoto thought. How was he supposed to understand him?

A memory surfaced, from years ago, of a middle school aged Totsuka challenging Mikoto and Kusanagi to a chicken race, to see who was brave enough to ride their bikes off a cliff’s edge. _“The one who brakes first loses,”_ he’d said. Totsuka had stopped right before the edge, while Mikoto had sailed right over it.

In many ways, Totsuka was still the same reckless, bright-eyed kid he’d been in middle school. But now, after everything, would he still brake right at the edge?

 

 

When Totsuka came into the bar later in the evening, Mikoto eyed him intently. Sat between Yata and Eric, he was telling a story about someone he’d met while filming the city one night. The guys of Homra watched him fondly, transfixed by his enthusiastic storytelling. Anna, who was sitting quietly, watching her marbles, would look up at the sound of Totsuka’s cheery laughter. Mikoto couldn’t help but wonder if it brought her peace like it did for him.

As if sensing Mikoto’s gaze, Totsuka looked up and smiled at him as their eyes from met across the room.

Years ago, when they were young, Totsuka had looked up to him with wide, excited eyes. At first, Mikoto had thought that the kid just had a bad case of hero worship. Why else would he call a complete stranger “King”? Mikoto had thought he was weird. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s hero.

But Totsuka had offered him friendship. He’d brought Mikoto laughter and light. With just the touch of his hand, he’d given him a sense of calm that he’d never known before. And somewhere along the way, Totsuka’s gaze had shifted from awe and admiration to… Well, whatever you’d call the way he was looking at him now.

 _Ah,_ Mikoto thought.

If anyone noticed Mikoto’s quiet contemplation, they didn’t mention it. Eventually, Totsuka took out his phone and checked the time.

“It’s time for bed, Anna,” he said. Anna offered him her version of a pout and puppy eyes, but Totsuka just smiled, long immune. “Let’s go.”

Mikoto watched them go upstairs and disappear into the apartment. He stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet, following them.

“Are you gonna play cards with us, Mikoto-san?” Yata asked, shuffling the deck.

“Gimme a minute,” he said.

 

 

Sitting on the couch, Mikoto heard Totsuka’s quiet murmuring from Anna’s room. Totsuka might’ve gotten roped into a bedtime story, and then Mikoto would be waiting a lot longer than a minute.

But then he heard a door closing and Totsuka reappeared. Mikoto stood.

“King?” Totsuka asked, surprised to see him. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding up here. Yata wanted you to play cards with us,” he chuckled. “Come on.”

When Totsuka started to walk by him, Mikoto grabbed his hand to pull him close. He tried to gaze down at him with the kind of stare that would make someone blush—intense, full of heat. Not Totsuka, of course. His eyes were wide with surprise at first, but then his expression settled to something softer, almost amused. He watched Mikoto with a small smile for a long moment.

_The one who brakes first loses._

Totsuka tilted his head.

Mikoto swallowed, but refused to move an inch. It was up to Totsuka to fall over the edge. He wasn’t about to let Totsuka laugh this off.

“Okay,” Totsuka murmured, almost as if he could read Mikoto’s mind, and Mikoto wouldn’t have been surprised if he could. Totsuka cupped Mikoto’s face and leaned up to press their lips together sweetly.

Mikoto wasn’t ready for it, the shape of Totsuka against his mouth. A soft, gentle heat was building inside of him, and then Totsuka was pulling away.

There was no teasing or smugness in Totsuka’s expression when Mikoto looked at him. His smile was warm and eyes fond, and he was looking at Mikoto like he had a million times before.

It was finally his turn, Mikoto thought. He brushed his fingers along Totsuka’s cheek and Totsuka leaned into the touch. When he kissed Totsuka, it was a little less careful, a lot more insistent. Totsuka was so responsive, winding his arms around Mikoto’s neck to press in closer, opening his mouth so Mikoto could kiss him more deeply. Their tongues brushed and the fire inside Mikoto was burn burn burning. For once, Totsuka’s touch wasn’t calming; it was stoking the flames. Mikoto’s mouth was moving hungrily now, but Totsuka was keeping up with his pace.

“Totsuka-san! Mikoto-san!” Yata’s voice carried from downstairs.

They broke the kiss at Yata’s cry, but they didn’t let go or move away. Mikoto watched Totsuka lick his lips, couldn’t take his eyes off those lips. Totsuka smiled.

“We’re coming, Yata!” Totsuka shouted, and Mikoto couldn’t help but sigh. Totsuka laughed and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Come on,” he said, tugging at Mikoto’s hand. Mikoto followed him.

 

 

The next time Kusanagi decided to feed Totsuka his experimental cocktails, Mikoto realized he probably needed to revise the stages once again. As Totsuka plopped himself down beside Mikoto on the couch and proceeded to lean in to kiss his neck, Mikoto renamed the third staged the “can’t keep his hands off Mikoto” stage. He heard Kusanagi’s laughter and sighed. While he wasn’t against this stage in theory, it was a little bit less appealing with the knowledge that Totsuka would be out cold in a few minutes. And, of course, they should probably spare Kusanagi. They were each other’s oldest friends, but they should probably draw the line somewhere.

“Oi,” Mikoto said, gently pulling Totsuka off of him.

“King,” Totsuka said, with a bit of a whine, and Mikoto ignored his body’s near-automatic response. Totsuka’s face hovered near Mikoto’s, lips pursed as if waiting for a kiss. Mikoto brushed Totsuka’s lips with his thumb, but didn’t give in. When Totsuka whined again, Mikoto flicked his forehead. “King!” Totsuka cried and muttered something to himself. He blinked a few times, eyes growing heavy even as he pouted.

“Come on,” Mikoto said, rising from the couch. When Totsuka made no move to follow, Mikoto picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. Totsuka cried out in protest, but Mikoto ignored him and made his way over to the stairs. He waved at Kusanagi.

“Night,” Kusanagi said, chuckling. “Good thing he ain’t a puker,” he said, glancing at a squirming Totsuka.

Mikoto felt Totsuka swat at his ass and sighed. “Good thing,” he muttered.

Once in his room, Mikoto deposited Totsuka on his bed. Snuggling into the softness of Mikoto’s sheets, the fight in Totsuka quickly drained. Mikoto allowed himself a chuckle. Totsuka murmured something, but was already dozing off.

“Totsuka,” Mikoto murmured, trying to get him to sit up so he could change into clothes to sleep in. Totsuka looked up at him, his eyes full of love even if they were hazy from too many drinks. Unable to resist, Mikoto leaned down to kiss him gently. He felt the shape of Totsuka’s smile against his mouth. Totsuka tasted unbearably sweet from Kusanagi’s cocktails. When he pulled away, Mikoto once again marveled at the warmth in Totsuka’s expression as he gazed at Mikoto.

Mikoto managed to wrestle Totsuka out of his shirt and jeans and get one of his own T-shirts on him, and then he changed into his own pajamas. Shifting Totsuka over, he climbed into the bed. Totsuka clung to him immediately, his nose pressed into the crook of Mikoto’s neck. As always, he fell asleep in mere seconds.

Running his fingers through the soft strands of Totsuka’s hair, Mikoto thought that maybe the fourth and final stage wasn’t so bad, when Totsuka was curled up beside him. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to cry over mikototsu, you can find me on [tumblr.](http://http://missalicialeila.tumblr.com/)


End file.
